At a seminar the Preacher and I attended last year, noted Christian leaders challenged believers to do a better job of living our faith in our local communities. One of them, author and futurist Len Sweet, used the phrase "loving our own postal codes."
A bearded man across our aisle asked him a question. "My denomination is very good about sending missionaries and money abroad," he said. "We're not so good at connecting in meaningful ways with the people near us. How do we change that? How do we love our postal codes?"
Mr. Sweet thought a moment. "You get on your sneakers and pound the pavement. You get dirty, and you get wet. We can't carry water to others if we're not willing to get wet."
Ouch. Like, Len, d'ya mean face to face?
He did. And he's right. A willingness to get messy is part of sharing one's faith.
We who are old in the faith are comfortable with "the way we've always done things." Too long, we've sat down to a banquet of incredible spiritual richness with people just like us. Doing so strengthens us, makes us better Christians - or so we think.
Instead, it has narrowed us. Emptied our churches. Just ask that homeless guy, that immigrant, the woman with a different skin colour. Ask the mentally deficient, the unborn, the child next door and the dysfunctional family he lives with. Ask the prisoner, the homosexual, the addict.
Most of them will tell you what they think it means to be a Christian: legalistic, closed-minded, selfish, anti-environment, anti-gay, anti-women's rights... have I missed any antis?
They should know: Some of them, seeking something they have faint hope of finding, have walked into the doors of our churches and our lives. Then walked out again, unloved and un-welcomed.
No wonder most established churches of nearly every denomination are failing, while many unconventional churches (home churches included) that welcome strangers and shun hollow tradition are thriving.
The Preacher and I led traditional churches for three decades. Now that we have no leadership roles, we just attend them and attempt to do what Jesus demonstrated and Len echoed: to love our postal code - between Sundays.
Sometimes we feel like adults in kindergarten. Bumbling about, missing our boards and committees. Trying in small ways to represent Jesus to people we encounter, including those we live, work and volunteer with. Those we park beside, in the "real world."
We make mistakes. Sometimes we draw back, uncertain of our next move, wishing for the shelter of leadership. Too often it protected us from this level of interaction with others.
But as never before, I'm certain of this: our churches and pulpits are vital for equipping believers and proclaiming Christ's message of redemption and love, but until we pew-sitters pay it forward on the streets where we live, our churches and pulpits will remain ineffective symbols of useless religion.
For Christ's sake, let's lace up our sneakers.
